Crossroads
by Rei Ryuugazaki
Summary: The story of the greatest Grand Master of the Assassin Order and how he got to where he is.
1. Al-Haram ash-Sharif

Ryuugazaki: So I'm writing another Assassin's Creed fanfic. Send help.

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Chapter One | al-Haram ash-Sharīf  
 **(11 July 1191, 00:00AM – Jerusalem, Palestine)**

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Failure! But I am not to blame. Had Malik not restrained me, Robert de Sablé would be dead and the artifact ours. Surely Al Mualim will see things my way.

* * *

"Wait, there must be another way. This one need not die." The man wielding his hidden blade didn't listen and stabbed the old, armored man in the nape of his neck. The old man fell to the dusty floor of the temple and bled out. The man who first spoke squawked in frustration and yelled, "That was a noncombatant, you blockhead! A _noncombatant_!"

"An excellent kill. Fortune favors your blade," the youngest man said as he ignored the shrieking man.

The man who conducted the assassination retracted his blade. "Not fortune, Kadar. Skill. Watch a while longer and you might learn something." The man haughtily told the novice that complimented him. The novice's brother, Malik al-Sayf, rolled his eyes.

"Indeed, Kadar," Malik al-Sayf started. "He'll teach you how to disregard everything The Master has taught us."

"And how would _you_ have done it?"

"First of all, I would not have drawn attention to us. I would not have taken the life of an innocent. What I would have done is follow the Creed." This creed that Malik was talking about was the creed of their order. There were three simple tenants: (1) Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent, (2) Hide in plain sight, (3) Do not compromise the brotherhood. These things were essential to their Order.

"Nothing is true. Everything is permitted. Understand these words. It matters not how we complete our task. Only how it's done," Altaïr said flatly.

"But this is not the way of–"

The arrogant man, Altaïr ibn La'Ahad, cut him off by saying, "My way is better."

Malik sighed and gave up on trying to reason with Altaïr. "I will scout ahead. Try not to dishonor us further." Malik walked away from Altaïr and Kadar, the novice.

"Altaïr, what is our mission? Brother would tell me nothing of it except that I should be honored to have been invited."

"The Master believes the Templars have found something beneath al-Haram ash-Sharif."

"Treasure?"

"I know not. All that matters is that The Master considers it important; he would not have asked me to retrieve it otherwise." Kadar stretched. Kadar al-Sayf was a youth of about sixteen or seventeen years. Like Malik, he was the colour of bronze, his eyes were light brown, and his hair was black like melanite garnet. He was like his brother in many ways; however, they also differed. Kadar wasn't very good at cartography like Malik but Kadar was very good at calligraphy. Altair and Kadar went to where Malik went, and they got a look at the next room.

"There!" Malik said. "That must be the Ark!"

"The Ark of the Covenant?" Kadar was slack-jawed. He grabbed his brother's arm.

"I want this through this gate by sunrise! The sooner we possess it, the sooner we can turn our attention to those jackals at Masyaf!"

Altaïr groaned at the sight of the bald, 182.88 centimeter Frenchman. Robert de Sable was the accursed enemy of the Assassin order. "Altaïr, don't compromise the brotherhood, you idiot. We are only supposed to retrieve the treasure and deal with Robert only if necessary," Malik reminded him.

"He stands between us and the treasure. I would say it is necessary."

"Discretion, Altaïr!" Malik walked towards Altaïr. "You already broke two tenants. Do not break the third!"

"I am your superior in title and ability. You should know better than to question me."

"But I'm older than you and I demand that you stand down!" Malik whispered. He may have been furious at Altaïr, but he didn't want to expose the three of them to the Templars.

Altaïr was like a moth drawn to a distant moon, and he jumped down to approach Robert de Sable. Malik muttered 'humaq' under his breath and closed his eyes as if he was reciting the takbir. He opened his eyes and turned to face Kadar, but he followed Altaïr down. Malik reluctantly followed the both of them. Their mother, Hawwa bint Amir, told Malik to watch out for Kadar and he had every intent to do so.

"Robert de Sable, lay down your arms!" Malik really wanted to lay down. This entire day was giving him a headache.

"If it isn't Al Mualim's lapdog. Why have you come here today?"

"I have come for blood." Altaïr dashed towards Robert de Sable, and Robert grabbed his wrists.

"You foolish boy," Robert de Sable said in French. "You have no clue what you are getting involved with." Robert kneed Altaïr in the chest and twisted his right arm. "Tell your master that I will be waiting for him." Robert pushed Altaïr into a provisional beam and the scaffold above them collapsed. Altaïr was separated from his party and he heard the screams of his fellow assassins.

Altaïr left the caverns of al-Haram ash-Sharīf and went out to face the Palestinian sunrise.

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Ryuugazaki: "Al-Haram ash-Sharīf" is basically Arabic for the Temple Mount. In Hebrew, it's called Har HaBáyit or Har HaMōriyā.


	2. Masyaf, Sweet Masyaf

Ryuugazaki: Save me.

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Chapter Two | Masyaf, Sweet Masyaf  
 **(11 July 1191, 05:47AM – Masyaf, Tartus Governorate, Syria)**

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It was a cool, Masyaf morning when Altaïr arrived in Masyaf, the Assassin Stronghold of the Third Crusade. Altaïr dismounted his horse and walked through the gates. "Altaïr, you have returned!" Altaïr looked for the source of Rauf's voice. He was sitting on a bench.

"Yes, yes I have returned." Altaïr walked to where Rauf was.

"It is good to see you unharmed. I trust that your mission was a success?"

"Is Al Mualim in his tower?"

"Of course. He's buried in his books, as usual. There is no doubt that he expects you."

"My thanks, Brother. Safety and peace." Rauf nodded and leaned back on the bench. Altaïr walked near the qanat in the Madani sub-district. The souk was nearby the well, and the mosque was in the middle of the district. Altaïr lived in this district as a child. Malik lived towards the edge of the district, on the border of the Majid sub-district. Altaïr sat by the qanat and waited. The person he's waiting for should be awakening soon. She is usually with 'Abal bint Salmanah at this time of morning.

Musnah bint Mujahid came out first with her two daughters. Zafirah bint Raja came out with her little girl next. "Baba!" Altaïr turned around and saw Jameela bint Talib with Mona bint Ibrahim. Jameela was an orphan of the Madani sub-district and she adopted Altaïr in 1189 after the Assault on Masyaf by Haras. He really didn't mind it. She ran to Altaïr's feet. " _Ahlan wa sahlan, baba._ (Welcome, Daddy.)"

"Marhaba, Jameela. (Hello, Jameela.)" Jameela was six years old and she had copper colored skin, quartz colored eyes, and hair the color of black opal. "Did you behave for Mona bint Ibrahim?" She nodded.

"Did you miss me?"

"Why wouldn't I miss you, Jamah?" He twisted a lock of hair her hair. "Assalamu alaikum, Mona. (Peace be upon you, Mona.)"

"Walaikum assalam, Altair ibn Umar. Kaif halak? (Upon you as well, Altair ibn Umar. How are you?)"

"I am fine."

Mona patted her hijab. "Jameela, tell Baba what you learned over the weekend."

"Oh! I learned how to write my name." Jameela grinned. "Do you want to see it?" Altaïr nodded. Jameela wrote her name on the ground. "See?" She crawled into his lap and put her head on the metal of his robes.

"It is very good." Mona chatted with Zafirah and Muyassar about some commonplace thing and Jameela went to play with Musnah's daughters. "Mona, I must go now. Thank you for watching over Jameela for me."

"It is no problem, Altaïr. Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuhu. (Peace, mercy, and blessings be upon you.)"

"Walaikum assalam. (Upon you as well.)" Altaïr walked past Jameela and her playmates. "Ma'assalama, Jameela. (Go in peace, Jameela.)"

"Ma'assalama, Baba! (Go in peace, Daddy!)" Jameela hugged his legs and resumed playing with Musnah's daughters as he walked through other districts in Masyaf to get to the fortress. He finally arrived at the Mu'azzazz sub-district which housed the fortress. Altaïr walked up the hill to the fortress.

"Ah, he returns at last." Abbas bin Ahmad Sofian. Altaïr looked around and arched an eyebrow.

"Did you really wait here for me?"

Abbas looked behind Altaïr. "Where are the others? Did you ride ahead hoping to be the first one back? I know you abhor sharing in glory." Altaïr stayed silent because he was still working out that Abbas waited for Altaïr to come back. "Silence is just another form of assent."

"Have you nothing better to do?"

"I bring word from Al Mualim. He awaits you in his library. Best hurry; no doubt you're eager to put your tongue to his boot."

"Another word and I will put my blade to your throat."

"There will be plenty of time for that later, brother," Abbas said with malice. Altaïr walked past him and up the short path to the fortress.

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Ryuugazaki: At a guest's request, I translated the dialogue. I will try to be more aware of this. Ma'assalama!


	3. Nothing To Lose

Ryuugazaki: I'm giving in.

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Chapter Three | Nothing To Lose  
 **(11 July 1191, 07:23AM – Masyaf, Tartus Governorate, Syria)**

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Malik lives. He survived the attack beneath Solomon's Temple and returned to Masyaf with the artifact. Cold comfort, this is. It should have been me who stood victorious before our Master.

* * *

The fortress was fairly vacant. The younger assassins were either in breakfast or making their own supplications. The elder assassins weren't necessarily exempt from it, but no one said anything if they didn't go. Altaïr looked at the training ring. Rauf was already there, getting the equipment ready for his students. Rauf waved at Altaïr again, and Altaïr returned the wave. He walked up the steps to the fortress, and the various guards greeted Altaïr. Altaïr waited in the Master's library for the Master to come back from _dua'_. The man in white looked around the library that he knew well and took note of all of the books and scrolls.

"Marhaba, Altaïr. Why don't you go eat breakfast?" Al Mualim sat at the stool at his desk.

"I am not hungry, Master." Altaïr did not lie. He was filled with such dread that he had no pangs of hunger.

"Well then, come forward and tell me of your mission. I trust that you have recovered the Templar's treasure." Altaïr undid his hidden blade and started to wring his hands. He delayed in answering. "Well, Altaïr?"

"There was some trouble, Master. Robert de Sable was not alone." He felt his hair starting to shrink from the copious amounts of sweat he was perspiring.

"Oh, when does our work ever go as expected? It is our ability to adapt that makes us who we are." He smiled and anticipated Altaïr's report on the mission.

"This time it was not enough."

"What do you mean?" Al Mualim started to express worry on his face.

"I have failed you." Altaïr started to say. "The treasure is lost to us and Robert has eluded my grasp."

"I send _you_ , my best man, to complete a mission more important than anything that has come before and your return to me with nothing but apologies and excuses!" Altaïr started to wring his hands harder. By then, he had pulled up his sleeves and started to leave burn marks. "Cut out that foolishness with your hands!" Al Mualim snapped at him. He stopped and started to play with the hem of his robes.

"I tried, Master."

"Do not speak another word!" Al Mualim nearly knocked over his desk in anger. He started to pace and think out loud. "This is not what I had expected. We will need to mount another force."

"I swear to you that I'll find him! I'll go and –"

"You will do nothing! You have done enough! Where are Malik and Kadar?" Altaïr had no clue on what to say. He didn't know for sure if they were alive or dead; however, they were left with Robert de Sable. They were outnumbered. They were probably dead.

"Dead."

"No, no dead!" Malik entered the Master's library and he was clutching his left arm. It was mangled and bloody. "I still live at least!"

"Where is Kadar?"

"Gone. Because of you!" Malik let go of his arm to point at Altaïr. His hand was shaking horribly. "My brother is dead because of you!" He screamed. Altaïr covered his ears.

"Robert threw me from the room. There was no way back, nothing I could do." Altaïr muttered.

"Because you would not heed my warning! All of this could have been avoided! And my brother, _my brother,_ would still be alive! Your arrogance nearly cost us victory today!"

"Nearly?"

"I have what your favourite failed to find." Malik smirked sardonically. "Here, take it." A younger assassin came in with the treasure and stood by the desk. "However, it seems that I have returned with more than just their treasure."

Another young assassin ran into the library.

"Master, we are under attack! Robert de Sable lays siege to the village!"

"So, Robert seeks a battle. Very well then, I will not deny him. Go and inform the others. The fortress must be prepared. As for you, Altaïr, our discussion will have to wait. You must make for the village and destroy these invaders." Altaïr adjusted his hidden blade around his wrist again.

"It will be done." Malik moved to get up.

"Malik, sit. I will get you to the infirmary." Malik sat down on the floor and leaned back. Altaïr averted his eyes and left the fortress.

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Ryuugazaki: _Dua'_ is a type of prayer.


	4. The Restoration of Order and Chaos, Part

Ryuugazaki: Chaos and order will destroy us / Gonna be your saviour, and your employer / So punch it get down on your knees / Wash up the creator of this disease

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Chapter Four | The Restoration of Order and Chaos, Part I  
 **(11 July 1191, 08:25AM – Masyaf, Tartus Governorate, Syria)**

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I've done the best I can, but many of my brothers have lost their lives today. Still, were it not for me, even more would have fallen.

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"Altaïr, it is good that you have come! We need your help?"

"What has happened?"

"Templars are attacking the village. Most of our people were able to get away. Most, but not all."

"What would you have me do, Rauf?"

"Distract the Templars. Keep them occupied while I rescue those still trapped inside."

"As you wish, brother." Altaïr went down to the border of the Mu'azzazz and Madani districts. From there, he cut through the hordes of Templar soldiers like he was a hot knife cutting through a stick of butter.

He made his way to the Majid district when he heard Abbas say, "Break off the attack and return to the fortress for Al Mualim commands it!"

He returned to the fortress and prepared himself to go back to The Master's library.

"Altaïr, Al Mualim is not done with us yet." Rauf pointed towards the ladder. "We have a surprise for our esteemed guests. Just do as I do; it should become clear soon enough." Altaïr followed Rauf up the ladder. He saw Thara ben Suleiman waiting by one of the beams. Rauf beckoned for him to stand. Thara ben Suleiman was a Syriac from Aleppo, and he was dedicated to the Order. Thara's mother is somewhere in the fortress, too. "You two, stand on those platforms."

To the right, they could see the lower balcony. All of the Assassin Order was there. Robert de Sable approached the fortress gates.

"Heretic! Return what you have stolen from me!" Al Mualim was high atop the fortress wall, looking down upon Robert and his men.

"You have no claim to it, Robert! Take yourself from here before I'm forced to think your ranks further!"

"You play a dangerous game!"

"I assure you, Robert, that this is no game!"

"So be it!" Robert spat. "Bring forth the hostage!" One of our own was there, of course. From the looks of it, the Assassin had a rosary on his robes. It was probably Barukh ben Dawud. His parents were Christian. A woman screamed from within the fortress. That might have been Barukh's mother. "Your village lays in ruins and your stores are hardly endless! How long before your fortress crumbles from within? How disciplined will your men remain when the wells run dry and their food is gone?"

"My men do not fear death, Robert! They welcome it and the rewards it brings!"

"Good, then they shall have it all around!" Thara was scratching his hands nervously.

"Follow me and do so without hesitation," Rauf told the two men.

"Show these foolish knights what it is to have no fear!" Al Mualim gestured to Rauf, Altaïr, and Thara. "Go to God!" A gentle breeze blew in the air and the coolness hung.

Altaïr, Rauf, and Thara dived into the haystacks near the river. Soon a loud crack and a scream was heard. Rauf rushed out of his haystack and Altaïr followed his lead. They went over to Thara and he was clutching his leg. He was trying to fight a scream.

"Quiet, Thara, or the Templars will hear us." Rauf set his leg and another crack was heard. Rauf turned to Altaïr. "I'll stay behind and tend to him. You'll have to go ahead without us. The ropes will lead you to a trap we've set in the wood storage. Release it."

Altaïr did as asked and cut the beams. The logs came forth and trampled Robert's men.

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Ryuugazaki: There wasn't anything I had to translate in this chapter. Ma'assalama!


	5. Aucune Gloire

Ryuugazaki: Maybe I can finish something.

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Chapter Five | Aucune Gloire  
 **(11 July 1191,08:25AM – Masyaf, Tartus Governorate, Syria)**

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The Master's words wound worse than any blade. He says I have failed them. That the lives lost were lost because of me. He's stripped me of my rank and tools. Humiliated me before my brothers... He is wrong. I am not a traitor.

* * *

Al Mualim had Altaïr wait in front of the entrance to the library. The entirety of the brotherhood was standing behind him. Altaïr started to undo his hidden blade to comfortably wring his hands again. When he did that, Al Mualim came out of the building with his two personal guards, Harut and Marut. Why someone would choose to name their sons that is unknown, but someone did.

"Altaïr!" Altaïr stopped and fixed his hidden blade. "You did well to drive Robert from here. His force is broken and it should be a long while before he troubles us again." He started to pace. "Tell me, do you know why it is that you were successful? It's because you _listened_. Were it that you'd listened in the Temple, all of this would have been avoided."

"I did as I was asked."

"No, you did as you pleased! Malik has told me of the arrogance you displayed and your disregard for our ways!" Harut and Marut left Al Mualim's side and stood behind Altaïr in order to grasp him.

"Harut, Marut, I demand that you unhand me!" Altaïr wrestled against their grasp but then deemed it futile.

"There are rules, Altaïr. We are nothing if we do not abide by the Assassin's Creed: three simple tenets which you have seemed to forget. I will remind you." Al Mualim inhaled. "First and foremost: Stay your blade –"

Altaïr finished his sentence, "– from the flesh of an innocent. I know." Al Mualim slapped Altaïr and he felt welts forming on his cheek.

"And stay your tongue unless I give you leave to use it!" Al Mualim withdrew his hand from the area of Altaïr's face. "If you are so familiar with this tenet, then why did you kill the old man in the Temple? He did not have to die. Your insolence knows no bounds! Make humble your heart lest I tear it from your chest with my own hands!"

Al Mualim breathed again. Altaïr kept his eyes focused on his boots.

"The second tenet is that which gives us strength: Hide in plain sight. Let the people mask you in such a way that you become one with the crowd. Do you _remember_?" Al Mualim stroked his beard. "Because as I hear it, you chose to expose yourself, drawing attention before you struck!" Altaïr kept his eyes to the ground. "The third and final tenet – the worst of all of your betrayals! _Never_ compromise the Brotherhood! The meaning should be obvious. Your actions must never bring harm upon the Order, direct or indirect. Yet your selfish act beneath Jerusalem placed us all in danger. Worst still, you brought the enemy to our home!" He took a breath. "Every man we lost today was lost because of _you_!"

A gentle breeze blew through the fortress as Al Mualim drew his dagger from his robes. "I'm sorry, truly I am, but I cannot abide a traitor."

"But I'm not a traitor." Altaïr pleaded.

"But your actions indicate otherwise, and you leave me no choice. Peace be upon you, Altaïr." Al Mualim stabbed Altaïr in the abdomen and he cried out.

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Ryuugazaki: Harut and Marut make their debut in the second surah of the Quran (Al-Baqara/The Cow). They came down and taught the people of Babel sorcery. That's my favourite surah.


	6. These Are My Transgressions

Ryuugazaki: I have an interesting fact! Apparently, a synopsis of all of the memories experienced in Animus 1.28 are on the AssCreed Wiki. (You may have already know this, but I didn't know this.)

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Chapter Six | These Are My Transgressions  
 **(12 July 1191, 07:00AM – Masyaf, Tartus Governorate, Syria)**

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A man named Masun was the one who opened the gate. But he did not act alone. The basket weaver handed him a letter just before the attack on the village. He might know more about Masun's accomplice. I need to find this basket weaver.

* * *

It's a new day in Masyaf, one in which everything was seemingly back to normal. The neophytes were making their supplications. The higher ranked brothers were eating breakfast. And the Master was in his tower, overlooking the village. In the Master's study was Altaïr ibn La'Ahad, the former Master Assassin that was stabbed by Al Mualim yesterday after the siege.

"I'm alive?" Altaïr asked and immediately touched where he was stabbed. The pain he felt there was all too real. "But I saw you stab me!"

"You saw what I wanted you to see and then you slept the sleep of the unborn so that you might awake and be reborn." Al Mualim explained. Altaïr stayed silent. "Do you remember what it is that the Assassins fight for?"

"Peace, in all things."

"Yes, in all things. It is not enough to end the violence one man commits upon another. It refers to inner peace as well. You cannot have one without the other."

"So it is said." Al Mualim slammed his hand on his desk and stood up.

"So it is!" Al Mualim yelled. "But you have not found inner peace! And this manifests itself in ugly, ugly ways! You are arrogant and overconfident and you do not truly understand the meaning of our maxim." He started to pace. "Our maxim does not grant you the freedom to do as you wish. It is a knowledge meant to guide your senses. It expects a wisdom that you evidently lack!" Altaïr turned his eyes to the floor.

After a pregnant silence, Altaïr spoke up and asked: "What is to become of me?"

"To be honest, I should kill you for the pain you have brought us. Malik thinks it is only fair – your life in exchange for Kadar's – but that would me a waste of my time and your talents." Al Mualim stopped pacing. "So you are now a novice, just like the day you joined our Order. I am offering you an olive branch."

"I assume you've something planned…"

"First you must prove to me that you remember how to be an Assassin." Al Mualim sat back at his desk. "Others have tracked your targets for you but no more. From today on, you will track them yourself."

Altaïr gracefully nodded. "Tell me what it is I must do."

"We have been betrayed. One of our own was assisting Robert de Sablé. Find him and bring him here for questioning." Al Mualim leaned forward and started to write. "That is all that I can give you. The rest is up to you."

Altaïr left the tower and went to the gate. There was a young informant waiting for him. The young man's name eludes Altaïr. "Safety and peace, Altaïr. Al Mualim has asked that I assist you."

"You're in my way."

"He wanted me to remind you how it is that we hunt our prey."

"I know how it works."

"Be that as it may, Altaïr, I have no desire to disobey."

"Be quick about it." Altaïr rolled up his left sleeve. His hidden blade used to rest on his left forearm, but it does not now. His left forearm was a consistently brown colour – just like the rest of him.

"The Assassins have many tools at their disposal."

"Yes, yes," Altaïr started. "We can eavesdrop, we can pickpocket, or we can use violence to intimidate." Altaïr rolled his eyes.

"Good! You remembered!"

"So you'd have me walk amongst the others and learn what I can about the traitor?" The informant nodded.

"You can begin by going to the village market. That is where we first started the traitor." Altaïr furrowed his brows.

"You know who it is?"

"I might," the informant grinned under his cowl.

"Then give me a name and be done with this!" The informant shook his head. Then Altaïr remembered his name. It was Abbud bin Qudamah.

"That isn't the way it works, ibn Umar." Altaïr groaned. "Now go and remember: begin your search in the village market." Abbud bin Quadamah went inside of the fortress to leave Altaïr to begin his mission.

Altaïr walked throughout the village to kill some time, but he still managed to find his target. He saw a fellow brother and a villager talking together by a cypress tree.

"I know what I saw, Qutb! Masun opened the gate. He let the Templars in!"

"I don't know why you're telling me this, Rabi. This is information that Al Mualim needs to know." Qutb leaned on the cypress tree.

"But I can't! Masun didn't act alone. Someone _inside_ the fortress helped him." Qutb shifted a bit.

"What makes you say this?" Rabi scratched his beard.

"He exchanges letters with someone inside. The basket weaver carries them for him."

"That's no reason to stay silent, you know."

"Ah! But the weaver delivered him a letter just before the attack. I suspect it held the order to open the gate." Rabi scratched his beard again.

"Then speak to the weaver! He can name Masun's accomplice."

"I would, but he disappeared!" Rabi said as he pushed his hair back. "Hiding for fear of being dragged into this!"

Qutb started to laugh. "He's probably inside one of his own baskets." Qutb started to laugh harder.

* * *

Ryuugazaki: So I decided to come back and finish what I've started.


	7. Meet Me by the Cypress Tree

Ryuugazaki: I finally decided to start writing this again.

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Chapter Seven | Meet Me by the Cypress Tree  
 **(12 July 1191, 10:00AM – Masyaf, Tartus Governorate, Syria)**

* * *

I may not find his accomplice, but Masun himself should be at the stage, near the centre of the village. I'm certain he will be able to tell me what I need to know.

* * *

Altaïr walked to the place where the basket weaver usually is. The basket weaver, like Altaïr and Bilal ibn Rabah al-Habashi, was a man with dark skin. He had on a white kufi and an olive green robe. A woman wearing an olive green hijab approached him.

"Please, Akil! Just _one_ basket! We lost everything in the attack and have no place to store our grain."

"I – I can't right now. I'm busy." Akil looked behind him. Altaïr was leaning on a rock, listening to him talk to Abia bint Muhammad.

"Is this about the letter?" Akil's face grew pallid.

"W–what letter?" Akil stuttered. Akil always had a stuttering problem; it got worse when he grew anxious.

"The letter you received when I got him. Did you get some bad news?" Abia bint Muhammad innocently asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Akil took off his kufi and scratched his head. "Look, I'll see what I can do for you, but I need to be alone right now. Come back later." Abia bint Muhammad complied with Akil's request and walked past Altaïr. Akil started to walk off and Altaïr started to follow him. As Akil walked, he put his kufi back on.

Akil had a pouch on his left side, and Altaïr assumed that the letter Abia bint Muhammad was referring to was there. Altaïr reached Akil and quickly snatched the letter from the pouch. Then Altaïr walked to a bench and started to read the letter.

The letter said: "I'll be by the large Cypress tree – the one on the way to the Fortress. Meet me there."

* * *

Ryuugazaki: I would come here with a whole bunch of excuses, but even I know that they're all a load of horse piss.


	8. Safeguarded

Ryuugazaki: I'm surprised I made it to chapter eight because I usually give up at around chapter two.

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Chapter Eight | Safeguarded  
 **(12 July 1191, 11:00AM – Masyaf, Tartus Governorate, Syria)**

* * *

Masun did betray us! He believes Robert's cause is just, and is prepared to die for it. I should have cut his throat then and there, but it is not my place to judge the man's fate. I will bring him before Al Mualim.

* * *

I stood near the large Cypress tree – the one that was mentioned in the letter. Masun stood in between the guards – fellow Assassins – and started to preach.

"A traitor! Al Mualim is the traitor! You will see; you will _all_ see!" He started. Altaïr felt his chest started to burn. How dare someone speak of Al Mualim like that! "Soon, all your eyes will be opened to the truth! We stand upon the threshold between this world and the new one! A better place, where all might live as equals!" A child took up a small rock and threw it at Masun's left ankle. He grimaced but continued to speak. "But men, like Al Mualim, would see this dream destroyed! Yesterday's attack was but a first, and more will follow unless you repent! Give up your wicked ways. Rise up against the madman of Masyaf! See through his lies!"

Masun left the tree and stopped to look for someone. He did not find the person who wrote the letter. Once Masun started to move, Altaïr started to follow him. Masun, conveniently, went into an isolated area. Then Altaïr hit him with a right hook.

Masun put up his hands and proceeded to hit Altaïr, but Altaïr blocked his punches and kneed him in the stomach. Masun fell to the floor in pain and Altaïr picked him up and held him against the wall.

"I yield, I yield!"

"Speak quickly then. I have no interest in your games. Why did you betray us? Who is it that you serve?"

"We serve the Templars. And you should, too. Theirs is a just cause."

Altaïr paused for a moment. "We?" He was highly intrigued by this. Who is this 'we' that Masun is referring to? Is there more than him and his accomplice that is in on this?

"Jamal. He told me of their plans and asked me to open the gate." Altaïr grimaced. He had always gotten a weird feeling from Jamal.

"You who betrayed us. We, who called you brother and kept you safe from harm," Altaïr said with anger and slight hurt.

"I did what I believed was right." Masun closed his eyes. "If you must kill me for it, so be it. I am not afraid to die."

"Your fate is not for me to decide. It is Al Mualim who will judge." Altaïr let Masun go and he fell to the floor like a rag doll. He was a quivering mess, Masun was. He was a scruffy guy with a scraggly beard. His hair was no better. It was unlike Altaïr's hair and Masun had no excuse to not be able to manage it, Altaïr thought as he looked down at him.

"Get up. We shall go to the Fortress." Masun got up and dusted off his grimy robes. They walked to the Fortress in silence.

* * *

Ryuugazaki: I'll probably have chapters nine and ten up by tonight.


	9. Seeds of Peace

Ryuugazaki: I'm on chapter nine?!

* * *

Chapter Nine | Seeds of Peace  
 **(12 July 1191, 1:30PM – Masyaf, Tartus Governorate, Syria)**

* * *

Masun was executed by Al Mualim for his treason. But even at the end, faced with the prospect of oblivion, he insisted his grievous work was just. I know not how Robert poisoned his mind, and I worry he is but the first of such men. The Templar must be stopped.

* * *

Al Mualim stood in front of his desk with a sword in his hand. Al Mualim was an old man from the Abbasid caliphate with a grey beard. He had brown eyes, but he was blind in one. His left eye was a cloudy brown colour. All of the younger Assassins questioned _why_ his eye was like this. Some of the older ones, did, too. Altaïr was one of the few who didn't; he is the one who knew the truth.

"You stand accused of betraying our Brotherhood and opening the way for our enemies." Al Mualim circled Masun. "How do you answer to these charges?"

"I deny nothing. I'm proud of what I did! My only regret is that they failed." Masun shifted a bit and closed his eyes. He was on his knees.

"I offer you a chance to repent. To renounce the evil in your heart."

"It is not evil in my heart, but truth! I will not repent." Masun plainly yet proudly said.

"Then you will die," Al Mualim stabbed Masun through the neck with the sword in his hands. It was plunged all the way to the hilt. Masun coughed up some blood and gurgled and died. Al Mualim removed the sword from Masun's neck and handed it to Altaïr. One of the young assassins came in with some cloth to remove the blood from the floor. He left the cloth under Masun's neck and came back with two other men and more cloth. They wrapped Masun's body in the cloth and removed him from the study.

One could assume that Masun was going to be given to his family to be washed and buried. But he was a traitor so he might not get a proper burial.

Altaïr thought of something his father said to him when he was younger. It was after his father explained that he had to execute a traitor for a heinous act. Altaïr had questioned if he would be buried properly. His father responded plainly by saying: "All Muslims deserve a proper burial. Even if they were a traitor."

"You did well, Altaïr, and have earned the right to carry a blade once more." One of the servant women came up the stairs with a cloth. She gave it to Altaïr to wipe the blade off. And he did such.

"What will become of the one who helped him?"

"That remains to be seen. Some do ill out of ignorance or fear. These are the men that can be saved." Al Mualim went over to the bookshelf on the left. "Others suffer from corrupted wills, their minds poisoned and twisted. These are the men that must be destroyed." Al Mualim picked up a quill and started to write. "Soon enough we will know what sort of man Jamal is."

"I have passed your test then. What now?"

"Oh, my child, we have only just begun." Al Mualim put down the quill and smirked. Then he went to the bookshelf on the right and pulled out a scroll. "Here I hold a list. Nine names adorn it; nine men who need to die. They are plague-bringers, war-makers, slavers. Their power and influence corrupts the land and ensures that the Crusade continues." Al Mualim opened and closed the scroll. He nodded at it. "You will find them. You will kill them. In doing so, you will sow the seeds of peace. Both for the region and for yourself. In this way you might be redeemed."

Al Mualim gave Altaïr the scroll. He opened it and looked at the names quickly. The first person on the list was someone named Tamir bin Musa.

"Nine lives in exchange for mine…" Altaïr muttered.

"A most generous offer, I think. Have you any questions?"

"Only where I need begin." Al Mualim smirked.

"Damascus. Your first target is a black market merchant named Tamir bin Musa. Let him be the first to fall." Al Mualim sat down. "Be sure to visit the Bureau when you arrive. I'll dispatch a bird to inform the Rafiq of your arrival. Speak with him. You'll find that he has much knowledge to offer."

"If you believe it to be best."

"I do!" Al Mualim grinned. "Besides, you cannot begin without his consent."

"What nonsense this is! What a waste of time! I don't need his permission!" Al Mualim leaned back in his chair.

"It's the price you pay for the mistakes you've made," Al Mualim said as he shook his head. "You'll answer not only to me but to the entirety of the Brotherhood." Altaïr groaned. "Take your equipment and go. Prove that you are not yet lost to us." Al Mualim got up from his chair and went over to the bird cage. He cooed at the pigeon and attached a note to his leg. Then he opened the window and let him go. "Your hidden blade is on the desk." Altaïr reached for his hidden blade and attached it to his left forearm. "You are dismissed."

Altaïr left the study and went into the garden behind the Fortress. He pulled down his hood and looked up. The sky was a pale blue colour and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. The wind blew and cooled his face. There were women in the garden. They wore beige niqabs and abayas on them. Some women also had gloves on.

He sat in front of the stream that ran in the garden. Listening to the water run in the garden was always so comforting to him.

* * *

Ryuugazaki: I want to make the interactions between Al Mualim and Altaïr more interesting, but I can't really find the excitement to do so.


	10. City of Jasmine

Ryuugazaki: I'm on chapter TEN, yo.

* * *

Chapter Ten | City of Jasmine  
 **(15 July 1191, 1:30PM – Damascus, Damascus Governorate, Syria)**

* * *

So many weapons! Enough for near a thousand men. And it's the smiths of Souk Al-Silaah who will prepare them. When this job is done, I must learn what I can of the one who's financed this endeavour.

* * *

Altaïr saved a scholar from being beaten by some city guards. In return, the scholar told his fellow scholars about the deed and they agreed to help him get inside the city.

Damascus was a very lively city. It smelled of jasmine, hence the city's nickname. The city was divided into three districts: the poor district, the middle district, and the rich district. The poor district contained the Souk Al-Silaah and the Assassin bureau. Altaïr forgot who exactly overlooked the Order in Damascus. He would find out when he get there, he supposed.

Altaïr went into the isolated alley and climbed the ladder to the bureau. The bureau entrance was on the roof and was protected with a screen. It was currently open. Altaïr descended into the main room of the bureau. There were pillows in one corner, a table in another, and prayer rugs in the centre. Then there was the entrance. Altaïr carefully walked around the prayer rugs and stood at the entrance. He looked inside of the study. The Rafiq was dancing. Or, at least, Altaïr _thought_ it was dancing.

Altaïr cleared his throat and the Rafiq stopped his movement.

"Oh, Altaïr!" The Rafiq smiled. "It's you!" Altaïr looked at the Rafiq. "Don't you remember me?" He shook his head. "Ah, well then. I am Ishaq bin Ibrahim. Don't you remember me now?"

"Not very much."

"It's no matter. You'll remember me soon enough." Ishaq went behind the desk. Ishaq bin Ibrahim was a man who was in his mid-thirties. Altaïr wondered if he was in a class with this man before because his voice sounds very familiar.

"So, um, I am here for my mission." Ishaq leaned forward.

"Yes?"

"And I'm waiting for you to tell me about my target?" Ishaq bin Ibrahim firmly placed his hands on the desk. He grinned and started to ramble in the desk.

"Right, right! Your target!" He turned around to face the shelves. The shelves were littered with pottery – all made by Ishaq – and papers. "Altaïr, your rank was taken, right?" Altaïr nodded and Ishaq turned around and went to the shelf that had "novice" over it. There were three other scrolls on that shelf. "Ah! Here is Al Mualim's letter!" Ishaq turned around to face Altaïr and looked down at the letter. He started to read it aloud:

"Ishaq ibn Ibrahim,

I am sending Altaïr ibn Umar to your bureau so you can give him guidance. His target is the arms dealer, Tamir ibn Musa. I ask you to please brief him on the basics of his target and send him off to investigate. Safety and peace be upon you. Al Mualim."

Ishaq bin Ibrahim rolled the letter back up and put it on the shelf. He smiled.

"So, there you have it," Ishaq pulled out a vase that he was working on. "Al Mualim wants you to investigate and assassinate Tamir bin Musa. He is an arms dealer that mainly operates in my district." Ishaq bin Ibrahim pulled out a small jug of water. "Oh! Before you go, I must tell you that Tamir is very proud of his work." Altaïr deadpanned.

"How does that help me?"

"I'm sure you'll find some use for that titbit of information," Ishaq said as he pulled out some paints. Then he paused. "You should probably start at Souk Al-Silaah. That's where he does most of his work." Altaïr nodded and started to walk out. "Also, Altaïr, do you think… do you think that I should add words to the pattern I'm about to paint or no?" Altaïr walked back to Ishaq and went over to look at the vase. "No?"

"I think you should have a branching pattern. Maybe you can add rose vines to it." Ishaq grinned and nodded. "Is that good?"

"Yes! Thank you!" Ishaq dipped his brush into the green paint. "You may go now. Safety and peace be upon you, Ibn Umar."

Altaïr left the study, exited the main room, and climbed out of the bureau. He strolled casually to the Souk Al-Silaah. He roamed the Souk, feigning interest in the wares. At one stall, there was a man selling cooking wares and kitchen items. At another stall, there were spices, teas, and produce. And at another stall, babouches, raw silk, and djellabas. Then there was the stall that had sharp objects. The seller insisted that his work was quality. There were two men by it, talking.

"Do you understand?" The man in the red turban asked.

"Yes. I am to deliver the letter to your merchant friend." The man in the grey kufi said confidently.

"And you know who to see?"

"The same man as always."

"Do not think to betray my presence in this city. We have many eyes, many ears—" The man in the turban was cut off by his associate.

"And many arms, yes. Good for silencing those who say too much. I know this well. You have my word."

"Good. Then be quick about it. Time is short." Once the men parted company, Altaïr followed the man in the grey turban. He seemed unconcerned that there was a man dressed similarly to a scholar silently following him. Altaïr picked up his walking speed and stole the letter.

Altaïr didn't see the need to wait for his target to turn around to check for his object only to see that it isn't there. He's seen it all before. They stop, look to their right, look to their left, pat their pouch, and panic over the realization that their item has been lost. How they reach that conclusion is unknown to Altaïr.

Then Altaïr left the Souk to find his next piece of information.

* * *

Tamir has called a meeting with the merchants in his souk. Whatever he has planned for them must be important.

* * *

"Assalamu alaikum, Altaïr!" Altaïr looked behind him. He saw a man in all white – white jellabiya, white jilbāb, white niqab – standing behind a pillar. The only things that weren't white on him were the slithers of tanned skin showing from his niqab and sleeves and the basket that was on his back. The man beckoned him over so Altaïr went. "I need your assistance!" Altaïr made a face at how direct his brother was, but couldn't be upset because at least he was able to cut to the chase. "I took something from one of Tamir's men and now they're after me. See me to safety and I'll share it with you! Please!" The man grabbed Altaïr's arm. "Is that a yes?"

"Of course, brother." The man hugged Altaïr tightly. "However, I will ask that you please let go of me." The man let go gladly and smiled. "What is your name again? I'm sure that we've met before."

"Hamdan ibn Abu Bakr." Altaïr nodded. They left from the pillar and walked about the district, making light conversation.

"So, Hamdan, what can you tell me of Tamir?"

"Aside from him being a black market dealer, I can tell you that he is a… he is a…"

"He is a what?"

"Guards." Ibn Abu Bakr made a gesture, pointing at the group of seven guards on patrol. "Can we go around?"

"Have you been having unpleasant experiences with the city guards?"

"Yes. I am afraid that they will recognize my face and come after me. I would like to avoid a conflict." Altaïr nodded. "These guards, they are so cruel, you know." Hamdan sighed. "I put my basket down because I needed to put something in it. You know what they did? They started kicking my basket around! Bastards!" Hamdan lifted up the bottom part of his niqab and spat on the ground.

Altaïr and Hamdan went around the areas littered with guards and made it to a stall.

"Hamdan, where are you planning on going?"

"Back to Masyaf. I need to restock and relax for a bit. Then maybe I will come back to Damascus." Altaïr nodded. "Take me to the nearest city gate?" Altaïr nodded and he escorted Hamdan to the city gate – which wasn't very far from the stalls. They walked over to the stable.

"Here you are, friend," Altaïr said as he patted a horse's neck. "I wish you safety and peace on your way back to Masyaf."

"And I wish you safety and peace as you carry out your investigation." Hamdan got on a white horse. "Oh! Before I forget," Hamdan reached into a pocket on his jellabiya. "This should aid you in your mission. It seems to be an invitation of sorts." Altaïr took the invitation and put it in his robes. "Safety and peace, brother!"

"To you as well, my friend!"

* * *

Ryuugazaki: You know how I said in chapter eight that I should have chapters nine and ten up within the night? Well, as you can see, I lied. I _l i e d._


	11. Backside of Their Master

Ryuugazaki: Don't call it a comeback / I've been here for years

* * *

Chapter Eleven | Backside of their Master  
 **(16 July 1191, 10:30AM – Damascus, Damascus Governorate, Syria)**

* * *

Tamir has little faith in the men who work for him. He oversees their work himself. I will turn this to my advantage. He'll be too preoccupied to notice my approach.

* * *

The merchants were just completing their stall set-ups for the day and the guards were hardly to be found. Altaïr was walking around, looking for his next piece of information. He's looking for a herald, to be specific. Surely Tamir has a propagandist or two at his use that can give Altaïr some information.

"Come closer! Hear the tale I have to tell!" Altaïr's ears perked up and he searched the area for the sound of that raspy voice. "None know the man better than I! None truly know of a merchant prince without peer!" Altaïr soon found the source: a man in beige robes and a red turban. There were two guards at his side. Altaïr took a seat on a nearby bench.

"It was just before Hattin. The Saracens were low on food, and in desperate need of resupply, but there was no relief in sight. Tamir drove a caravan in those days, between Damascus and Jerusalem. But recent business had been poor. It seemed there were none in Jerusalem who wanted what he had: fruits and vegetables from nearby farms. And so, Tamir left…" Altaïr listened on and on, wondering what any of this had to do with an arms dealer. "So Tamir gave the man his food, and when the battle was finished, the Saracen leader saw to it that the merchant was repaid a thousand times! Some say, were it not for Tamir, Salāḥ ad-Dīn's men would have surely turned on him. Could be we won the battle, because of that man?"

The man walked away and Altaïr followed him to a small alley. Then Altaïr proceeded to beat him up until he yielded.

"You say that you know Tamir better than the rest. What is he planning?"

"I know only the stories I tell. Nothing more!"

"Pity. There's no reason to let you live if you have nothing to offer."

"Wait! There's one thing!" Altaïr pursed his lips.

"Continue."

"He's overseeing the production of many, _many_ weapons." Altaïr slightly cocked his head to the side and rolled his eyes.

"And what of it? They're meant for Salah ad-Din. This doesn't help me which means that it doesn't help you." Altaïr readied his hidden blade, but then the herald opened his mouth and made a pathetic sound.

"No, stop! They're not for Salah ad-Din, but for someone else!" he started. "The crests these arms bear, they're different – unfamiliar. It seems that Tamir supports another, but I know not who."

"Is that it?"

"Yes, yes! I have told you everything I know." The herald tried to straighten himself up.

"Then it is time for you to rest." Altaïr stabbed the herald in the throat and walked away.

* * *

The beams above the souk's central courtyard may prove a useful point of entry... If I can find a way to access them.

* * *

"It's rats!" Altaïr overheard a man say.

"No, it's children. Rats don't laugh," Altaïr started to slow down his walking in order to hear what will be said.

"Rats or children, either way it's bad for business. All of that noise!" Altaïr stopped walking completely and took a seat on a nearby bench. "Someone needs to get up on those beams and clear them out." The man complaining huffed.

"It makes you wonder how they're getting up there."

"It must be through the central courtyard." The man – the one without a kufi – furrowed his brows and his forehead ridges started to show.

"We should ask the guard to have a look then." The man with a kufi suggested.

"They won't do it!" The man without the kufi said loudly. "They're much too busy polishing the backside of their master!" Altaïr made a face at that comment and muttered something along the lines of "well that's something new" under his breath. Then Altaïr got up and went in search of his next piece of information.

* * *

Ryuugazaki: Man these investigation missions are boring. Oh so boring…


	12. An Interesting Choice

Ryuugazaki: Just watch, this is going to be the last update for like three months.

* * *

Chapter Twelve | An Interesting Choice  
 **(17 July 1191, 11:30AM – Damascus, Damascus Governorate, Syria)**

* * *

It appears the souk's northeastern rooftops provide easy access to the central courtyard.

* * *

Altaïr looked at a vase that Ishaq ibn Ibrahim made and sold. It had no handles, but it had a lot of red and black incorporated into the design. "Sabur, something needs to be done. It's only a matter of time before someone else discovers it."

"Then tell him. It's in _his_ best interest to keep the souk secure."

"He won't meet with me. He's too damn busy with this new deal of his."

Sabur leaned on the beam and said, "And the guards, Ayham?"

"Tried it. They won't lift a finger unless the order comes from him." Ayham spat on the ground. "I'll go to Abu'l Nuqoud instead."

"The Merchant King? He won't see you."

"He doesn't have to. I've written him a letter which explains the problem. He can read it and decide for himself. With it, I gave him a map so he knows exactly what I'm talking about!" Ayham gave the letter and the map to his letter carrier. Then Altaïr put down the vase and stole the papers from the letter carrier when the time was right.

* * *

Once I've alerted the guards to my presence, it might be nice to have a man or two on my side. They'd provide a welcome distraction, buying me time to escape. I should seek out such men. Befriend them. Turn them to my cause.

* * *

"I'm sorry that I don't have anything to offer you, Altaïr, but I know of someone who does." Abdul-Rafi' sat on a crate that was on the roof of the building. "Behir ibn Ubaid – one of our brothers – shouldn't be too far from here."

"In what direction is Ibn Ubaid?" Abdul-Rafi' pointed behind himself.

"He is also on a roof. I wish you safety and peace in your investigation." Abdul-Rafi' crossed his legs and leaned against the wall.

Altaïr ran across the rooftops in the direction that Abdul-Rafi' said. Altaïr stopped when he saw a brother in all grey robes and in a niqab. Behir was also sitting on a stack of crates.

"They sent _you_?" Behir stood up and stretched. "That's a rather… interesting choice. But it's not my place to judge so let me not." Altaïr started to roll his eyes. "Ibn Ibrahim has asked me to observe the souk that Tamir called home. Here is what I've learned: There is a group of troublemakers that gather around its south-eastern exit. They don't get along with the guards at all. Find a way to earn their friendship and they'll surely be of service to you. Perhaps you can save some civilians nearby."

So Altaïr did just that. He saved women and scholars that were being hassled by the guards. In return, the vigilantes and scholars offered him aid. Then Altaïr went back to the bureau to share his knowledge with the Rafiq.

* * *

Ryuugazaki: I'm kind of inspired rn. Kinda.


	13. Knowledge, Part I

Ryuugazaki: Just watch, this is going to be the last update for like three months.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen | Knowledge, Part I  
 **(18 July 1191, 12:30PM – Damascus, Damascus Governorate, Syria)**

* * *

Tamir is meeting his merchants within Souk Al-Silaah today, to discuss a most important sale. Being insecure as he is, he'll be entirely focused on his work, ignoring all else around him. Approaching him at this point is the wisest course of action. This is when I'll strike.

* * *

Altaïr got up from his prayer mat and stretched. Even though Altaïr was here for three days, he did not see Ibn Ibrahim too often. Perhaps it was because Ibn Ibrahim was bartering with local merchants. Or perhaps it was because Altaïr didn't go inside of the study when he returned to the bureau for the night. Altaïr was leaning towards the latter on this one.

Altaïr went into the study only to see Ishaq dancing again. "Ibn Ibrahim, do you usually make it a habit to… dance?"

"Yes. Dancing brings me closer to Allah." Altaïr cocked his head to the side. "I don't suppose you came here to discuss my spirituality." Ishaq stopped dancing. "If you wish, we can discuss this at another time. Maybe you can even join me. But what is it that troubles you, Ibn Umar?"

"I have completed my investigation."

"Excellent!" Ibn Ibrahim went behind the desk and leaned forward. "Tell me what you know." Ishaq pulled a chair close to him.

"Tamir rules over the Souk Al-Silaah. He makes his fortune selling arms and armour, and is supported by many in this endeavour. Blacksmiths, traders, financiers. He's the single largest death-dealer in the land."

"And have you devised a way to rid us of this blight?" Ishaq smiled.

"A meeting is being arranged at Souk Al-Silaah to discuss an important sale. They say it's the largest deal Tamir has ever made. He'll be distracted with his work. That's when I'll strike."

"Your plan seems solid enough. I give you leave to go." Ibn Ibrahim placed a feather on the desk. Altaïr took it and put it in his right sleeve. "The bureau is yours to do with as you please."

"Ibn Ibrahim, if you don't mind, you can tell me about your reasons for dancing now."

Ibn Ibrahim's face lit up and he motioned for Altaïr to get a chair. "Now, what do want to know?" Altaïr shrugged and Ibn Ibrahim laughed. Then he started to talk.

* * *

Ryuugazaki: And here is chapter thirteen.


	14. Brothers

Ryuugazaki: I lost my first draft of this chapter so now I have to rewrite it :^)

* * *

Chapter Fourteen | Brothers  
 **(18 July 1191, 12:30PM – Damascus, Damascus Governorate, Syria)**

* * *

Tamir spoke of others. Brothers, he called them. And said that soon I'd come to know them well. Stranger still, he seems to know the Assassins, and referred to Al Mualim directly. I'd best speak to the Master about this.

* * *

Altaïr left the bureau feeling enlightened and more spiritually aware. He reflected on the words of Ibn Ibrahim as he walked into the souk's courtyard. He stopped and stood in a crowd of onlookers.

Tamir and a merchant walked into the courtyard. "If you'd just have a look!"

"I have no interest in your calculations. The numbers change nothing!" Tamir spat on the ground. "Your men have failed to fill the order, which means I have failed my client!"

"We need more time!" The merchant pleaded.

"This is the excuse of a lazy or incompetent man. Which are you?"

"Neither." They stopped in front of a fountain.

"What I see says otherwise," Tamir said curtly. "Now, tell me, what do you intend to do to solve this problem of ours? These weapons are needed now!"

"I see no solution! The men work day and night, but your 'client' requires so much, and the destination – it is a difficult route. How do you expect us to get the weapons to your client in a span of a week? Tell me how." Tamir furrowed his brow.

"Were it that you could produce weapons with the same skill as you produce excuses!" Tamir spat behind the merchant.

"I have done all that I can."

"It is not enough."

"Then perhaps you ask too much," the merchant said bluntly. Tamir made an indignant face and his hands balled into a fist.

Tamir started to laugh. "Too much?" He laughed harder. "Without me, you would still be charming serpents for coin! All I ask in return was you fill the orders I bring you! And you say I ask too much? You dare disrespect me?"

"Peace, Tamir," the merchant started to back away. "I meant no insult!"

"Then you should've kept your mouth shut!" Tamir drew his dagger and stabbed the merchant in the stomach.

"I beg you, stop!" The merchant started sobbing and pleading. Tamir started laughing again. He was roaring, in fact.

"Stop? _Stop?!_ Ha! I'm just getting started!" Tamir stabbed the merchant repetitively in the chest and stomach. "You came into **my** souk! Stood before **my** men! And dared to insult **me**? You must learn your place!" The merchant started to cough up blood. By the time Tamir was done stabbing him, it seemed as if there was a waterfall of blood coming from the merchant's mouth. Tamir pushed the merchant's lifeless cadaver into the fountain. Then he placed his blade back into its sheath. One of the guards stepped in to move the body. "Leave the body. Let this be a lesson to the rest of you. Think twice before you tell me something cannot be done. Now get back to work."

Altaïr watched Tamir make his rounds, berating his merchants as he came to their stalls. Altaïr grew tired of this and started to feel anger. Then he decided to stop observing and to remove Tamir from the land of the living. Altaïr stabbed Tamir in the back of his neck and he laid him down.

"Be at peace."

"You'll pay for this. You, and all your kind." The blood started to come from his mouth.

"It seems you're the one who pays now, my friend. You'll not profit from suffering any longer."

"You think me a petty death-dealer, suckling at the breast of war? A strange target, don't you think?" He smiled sardonically. "Why me when so many others do the same?"

"You believe yourself different, then?" Altaïr asked and wiped the blood from Tamir's mouth.

"Oh, but I am! For I serve a far nobler cause than mere profit. Just like my brothers."

"Brothers?"

"Ah, but the boy thinks I act alone," Tamir laughed. "I am but a piece. A man with a part to play." He started to gargle his blood. "You'll come to know the others soon enough. They won't take kindly to what you've done." Tamir rolled on his side with all the strength he had left. Blood started to pool out of his mouth and onto the ground.

"Good." Altaïr said as he removed the feather from his sleeve. "I look forward to ending their lives as well."

"Such pride," Tamir chuckled and sputtered. "It will destroy you, child." Tamir spoke no more and Altaïr dipped the feather in Tamir's blood. Altaïr escaped the souk and dashed into the study. He clutched his chest and started to breathe deeply.

"Word has reached me of your victory. You have my gratitude and respect." Altaïr nodded and approached the desk. "It's a shame that the other Assassins continue to hold you in such poor regard."

"I care not what the others think, Ishaq."

"As you wish then…" Ibn Ibrahim got up and went into a corner near his desk. "Have you given thought to what I've said?" Altaïr nodded. "Good, good! When you return to Damascus, will you tell me your thoughts?"

"Of course, Ishaq." Ibn Ibrahim picked up a slab of clay.

"I would ask you to watch me make a pot, but you must return to Masyaf. I am sure that Al Mualim has another errand for you." Altaïr nodded and sat in front of Ibn Ibrahim. "Or you could watch me make a pot until you decide to leave. That works just as well."

* * *

Ryuugazaki: Hey maybe it won't take three months for the next update.


	15. A Larger Meaning

Ryuugazaki: Fifteen _[twerks in celebration]_

* * *

Chapter Fifteen | A Larger Meaning  
 **(21 July 1191, 10:15AM – Masyaf,** **Tartus** **Governorate, Syria)**

* * *

"You have done well, Altaïr, and I'm confident that this is but the first of many successes." Al Mualim sat on his stool. He opened up an empty book.

"Tamir spoke as if he knew you well." Al Mualim picked up a quill. "He implied that my work has a larger meaning."

"Significance comes not from a single act, but the context within which it is performed. The consequences born of it," Al Mualim said as he dipped his quill in the ink.

"Then is there more I need to know?" Al Mualim started to write. In his spare time, the old man likes to write surahs from the Quran and his observations. From the way the first word looks, it looks like he's preparing to write Al-Fatiha.

"Altaïr, your greatest failure was born of knowing too much." Al Mualim touched the tip of the feather to his beard. "If I choose to withhold information, it is only to ensure you do not make the same mistake a second time."

"I see," Altaïr muttered.

"You do not!" Al Mualim threw his quill at Altaïr. "And it will remain this way until you've learned your lesson!" Altaïr pulled up his sleeve and started to wring his arm. "And cut that out!" Al Mualim got up and went over to his bookshelf. "However… You have performed competently. Go now, either to Acre or Jerusalem. There are men in both cities who require your attention. The rafiqs can tell you more about what needs to be done."

Al Mualim dismissed Altaïr, and Altaïr went to the maktab (children's school). Jameela should be getting out for lunch soon.

"Baba!" Jameela ran out of the door of the maktab after everyone else had left. She was in a grey abaya with grey pantaloons that tightened at her ankle. On her head was a black, chiffon hijab. She tore it off and dragged it behind her when she reached Altaïr's legs. "Baba, I've missed you!" Altaïr picked up his adopted daughter and she pulled down his hood. Altaïr focused on picking up Jameela's hijab. Jameela loved looking into the face of her adopted father. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "Did you miss me, Baba?"

"I will always miss you," Altaïr said reassuringly and started walking towards the Fortress. "What did you learn in your classes today?"

"I learned some lines from Al-Baqarah," Jameela said. "Do you want to hear them?"

"Tell me what you know."

"Allah has set a seal on their hearts and on their hearing; and on their eyes there is a covering, and for them awaits a mighty punishment." Jameela grinned proudly.

"And what does that mean?" She made a face. "You don't know what it means?" She shook her head. "Well, Jamah, there's another verse later in the surah that says 'No! But that which they used to commit has covered their hearts with rust.'" She stayed silent. "Do you know in what context that verse is being quoted?" She shook her head. "It is these who are guided by their Lord; and it is just these who are successful. Surely for those who have disbelieved, it is all the same whether you warn them or you warn them not: they do not believe." Altaïr stopped talking and waited for Jameela to say something. Instead, he heard little sobs and felt his shoulder get wet with child tears. "It's okay if you don't understand any of this. I didn't understand verse recitation until I was a little older." He wiped her eyes with her hijab and stroked her back. "Do you want me to recite the surah for you?"

"Yes," she said between sobs. She gripped onto the leather strap that ran across Altaïr's chest.

"This is the Book about which there is no doubt, a guidance for those conscious of Allah, those who believe in the unseen, establish prayer, and spend out of what We have provided for them, and who believe in what has been revealed to you, [O Muhammad], and what was revealed before you, and of the Hereafter they are certain." Altaïr patted Jameela's back and continued. "Those are upon right guidance from their Lord, and it is those who are the successful. Indeed, those who disbelieve - it is all the same for them whether you warn them or do not warn them - they will not believe. Allah has set a seal upon their hearts and upon their hearing, and over their vision is a veil. And for them is a great punishment." Altaïr neglected to tell her about the disconnected letters that follow the lines he recited. He had figured, if she wished, that she will ask one of the Dais as she played. The Dais are usually kind to the children when they have questions about the tenants of their faith. After all, curiosity is the wick in the candle of learning.

"We're going to the fortress, aren't we?" Altaïr nodded. Jameela started to flap the hand that wasn't holding on to Altaïr. Jameela enjoyed going to the Fortress with Altaïr. Altaïr can remember when her father, Talib Hakim, would bring her there as a baby and then as a toddler. She would toddle around the castle courtyard, grabbing everyone's legs. Talib Hakim loved his daughter and that showed whenever he would talk about her. Altaïr had briefly wondered if he would be able to love Jameela to the extent that Talib did. Then he swore to himself that he will do the best that he can to love and raise Jameela properly.

"Altaïr, you can't bring her into the castle!" One of the guards stationed said. Altaïr kept walking. Now that Altaïr was demoted, he was supposed to answer to the entire brotherhood. Which doesn't mean that Altaïr wasn't going to break the rules or subvert those that have authority over him from time to time. "Altaïr, don't you hear me?"

"I do."

"Then why aren't you listening?"

"Because I don't care?" Altaïr walked faster and made it to the tower. There was one room in the tower that Altaïr loved to be in because it was isolated from the others yet it had a great view of Masyaf.

"Baba, why can't I be here?" Jameela asked as Altaïr put her on the settee with the mother of pearl pattern. She scratched her head with her small hand and laid down. Altaïr shrugged and took off his boots. His boots revealed dingy white socks with holes at the big toes. Altaïr's feet were two shades darker than he and his toenails were slightly short. "Don't they want me here?"

"I think it might be because you're a bit small, Jamah," Altaïr picked her up and placed her in his lap. "They might not want you to get lost."

"But I won't get lost. I'm with you, Baba," she innocently said. She stayed silent and played with the hem of Altaïr's outer robe. "Baba, will I ever get to do what you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Will I get to be an Assassin, too?" She sat up, still playing with them hem of Altaïr's outer robe. "The men in the white robes with red at the bottom –"

"The Dais."

"Yeah! Them! I want to wear what they wear! I want to be an Assassin, too!"

"Jamah, you're too young to be an Assassin," she scoffed.

"I _know_ that, but when I'm older," Altaïr was struck silent. "Can I become an Assassin when I'm seven?" Altaïr shook his head. "Eight?" He shook his head again. "Nine?" Altaïr was slow to shake his head. "When did you become one?"

"When I was eleven."

"But that's so old!" Altaïr deadpanned. Then Jameela's face lit up, "Okay, so can I become an Assassin when I'm eleven?"

"I… I don't know, Jameela." Altaïr really didn't know. There hasn't ever been a female Assassin in the history that Altaïr knew of. Altaïr saw the countenance of his adopted daughter change. "However, I will definitely find out if you can be one."

"Will I be a good one like you, Baba?" Her question tugged at Altaïr's heart.

"No," he started, "you will be one better than I." Jameela got out of Altaïr's lap and walked around the room. She was looking in the cabinets and drawers, eyeing at the books that were kept in there. She seemed to be pulling out the books that she found interesting. Jameela brought them over to Altaïr and then sat at the other side of the piles she made. Jameela started to rub her hands on the edges of the books. The book on top was Hayy ibn Yaqdhan.

"What is this book about?" She pointed to the book.

"It's about a child raised by a gazelle and his pursuit of knowledge after her death." She nodded and put that book to the side. "Are you going to read that?" She nodded again. Then she picked up another one. Altaïr strained his eyes and said, "I believe that is one of the books of the Alexiad." Jameela turned the book around. "The title isn't in Arabic."

"Then what is it in?"

"Greek." She nodded and put that book on the floor. Then she picked up another and held it up to Altaïr. "That is One Thousand and One Nights." She put the book in her lap. "That one is a collection of stories that a princess tells to her husband."

"Can you read me one?"

"You'll have to go back to school soon."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do," Altaïr put the book on the table that was on the right of the settee. "I'll read it another time." She picked up another one. "That is the Kitab al Khazari and it's about a discussion between a Khazarian king and a rabbi."

"Can I read it?"

"You won't understand it." Jameela made a face and put the book on the floor. Then she lifted another. "That's the Bible."

"Can I read it?"

"I doubt you'd understand it." She made another face. "Plus, it's in Hebrew."

"Can you read Hebrew?"

"Yes, I can." Jameela gasped and climbed over the pile of books. "Do you want me to teach you?" She nodded, her medium sized afro staying stagnant. Altaïr grabbed a piece of vellum and a quill and wrote down the letters and their Arabic equivalent for her. "Jameela, when did you get so smart?"

"I got it from you, Baba. You're so smart and strong." Altaïr's face warmed.

"And one day you can be as smart and strong as me, but only if you go to school." Altaïr went to put his boots on, and picked up Jameela. "I will come pick you up when your classes are over." Jameela nodded and kissed Altaïr's nose. Altaïr went and grabbed her hijab from the arm of the settee. He put Jameela down and knelt in front of her, putting the hijab between them. "Now how do I…"

"What happened?"

"How do I wrap your hijab?"

"You don't know how?" Altaïr shook his head, shamefacedly. "Didn't you ever see jodedah (grandma) wrap hers?"

"My mother died when I was a baby, Jamah."

"And akhawatuka (your sisters)?"

"I don't have akhawat (sisters) either." Altaïr figured out a way – an ingenious way – to wrap Jameela's hijab. He wrapped it around her forehead, constricting parts of her afro. "It was just me and my father until I was eleven," Altaïr patted the crown of her head. Jameela went to find a mirror.

"Walid (father), that isn't how you wrap a hijab at all," Jameela whined. She patted her hair and looked at how it just stayed stagnant.

"Are you going to fix it?"

"No," Jameela walked back over to Altaïr. Altaïr got up, picked her up, and left the room. He closed the door behind them, and they walked back to the maktab.

* * *

Ryuugazaki: I've been thirsting over a meringue chapter with Altaïr being paternal and I was like, "why not now?" So yeah. I needed this for my mental health.


	16. Assistance

Ryuugazaki: I'm really sorry that this is so late. I've been battling with my health and school and stuff.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen | Assistance  
 **(21 July 1191, 1:45PM – Masyaf,** **Tartus** **Governorate, Syria)**

* * *

"Altaïr!" Rauf was moving things for his students. "How are you?"

"I am fine."

"I trust that your mission was a success, yes?" Altaïr nodded. "That's great." He propped a sword back up. "You seem troubled, friend. Is there any way I can be of assistance?"

"Well, I was thinking of Jameela." Rauf nodded. "She told me that she wanted to be an Assassin after a guard told me that she couldn't be in here," Rauf stopped working. "Do not let me keep you from your work, friend."

"You aren't keeping me from anything," Rauf laughed. "So your daughter wants to be an Assassin?" Altaïr nodded. Rauf looked him in the eye. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her that I will see if she's able to become one." Rauf sat on a beam in the training ring. "I don't know if she can be one, though." Rauf nodded. "What do you think?"

"Well, I think that you should speak to Al Mualim about this – about having a female assassin," Rauf started. "I am not familiar with any female Assassins in the history of the order. I'm presuming that you aren't either."

"That is what I was thinking," Altaïr chuckled. "Also, I tried to wrap Jameela's hijab today," Rauf laughed.

"And how did that go?"

"I wrapped it around her forehead." Rauf started cackling. "She said that I didn't do it correctly." Rauf started snorting and kikiing as he cackled. "What is funny, friend?"

"You are not very familiar to raising a child." Rauf stopped laughing. "I don't mean to be rude, friend." He got off of the beam and reached out to Altaïr. Altaïr took his hand and got on the beam with him.

"I had the same thought earlier." Altaïr swung his legs. "I was thinking about her father. You remember how he would always bring her here and how she would run around and hug everyone?" Rauf nodded and smiled.

"I remember how when she first saw you. She just climbed your legs and sat on your shoulders. Talib just laughed at the sight."

"You all laughed at it." Altaïr grinned.

"Oh! Altaïr, before I forget, you know that Lami'ah and Ma'ali – my cousins – are a little older than Jameela." Rauf scratched his beard. "If you need, I can ask them to teach you how to wrap a hijab." Rauf laughed. "They're sweet girls and they don't live far from the Fortress. Are you interested?" Altaïr nodded. "Great!"

So Rauf and Altaïr went to the Majid district to talk to Rauf's Uncle Husni ibn Harith to let Lami'ah andMa'ali teach Altaïr how to wrap a hijab. Ibn Harith was wary of it, but he allowed it after Rauf explained the situation.

* * *

Ryuugazaki: Another meringue chapter. I really wanted to see Rauf and Altaïr interact, but outside of the training ring. The Wiki said that they were very good friends so I just wanted that.

Also, I should probably tell you that when you see a character (for example, a male one) being referred to as "Ibn [Ibrahim]" that's just another way to refer to them. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?


	17. Cure

Ryuugazaki: I've managed to roll myself out of bed long enough to get this done.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen | Cure  
 **(25 July 1191, 9:00AM – Acre, Northern District, Israel)**

* * *

Garnier hides behind the walls of the Hostpitalier fortress. I doubt the patients within afford him much protection. Killing him will be simple. Getting into the fortress, however, is another matter entirely...

* * *

Another scholar was saved and another city was gained access to. Altaïr walked about the middle district, looking for the bureau. He found it and entered the bureau. The Acre Bureau Leader's name was Jabal.

"Ah, Altaïr," Jabal said as he looked up from his book. "A little bird told me that you'd be paying a visit." He smiled.

"Hello Jabal," Altaïr said. "Al Mualim has ordered the execution of Garnier de Naplouse." Jabal nodded. "And here I am." Altaïr walked up to the desk. "What can you tell me about him?" Jabal looked at Altaïr. "Uh…"

"He is the Grand Master of the Knights Hospitalier. And surely keeps his quarters in their district." He sighed. "Beyond that, I cannot say. You have to search the city and see what you can learn."

"Tell me where they gather and I'll see what I can find."

"The public gardens north of here, or what's left of them, are as good a place as any to begin." Jabal was referring to the latest siege here. It lasted from 28 August 1189 to 12 July 1191. "There's an abandoned market northwest as well that merits watching. And Maria of Jehoshafat's Church to the west remains a popular meeting place. These three locations should be sufficient for your needs."

"I appreciate the information, Jabal. It will be put to good use."

"See that it is." Altaïr left the bureau and walked around, hunting for information.

Altaïr approached the informant standing near the fortress.

"Remember me?" Altaïr looked at him. "No? I learned my craft at the same time as you, and you still don't remember me?" Altaïr stayed silent. "Doesn't matter. Al Mualim has charged me with a mission that I am honoured to perform – I must test you. How wonderful." Altaïr internally rolled his eyes. "I have hidden twenty flags in this area. Find them and return them and **be quick about it**. It's such a shame that the old man insisted that I must help you if you succeed." The informant spat into the dirt. Altaïr dashed off and found the twenty flags within five minutes.

Altaïr returned to the informant with a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Back? I'm impressed." The informant put his hands into his pockets. "I mean, not enough to change my mind about you, but I'm still impressed." Altaïr smirked. "Here is what I know about your next target: Garnier hides in the Hospitalier fortress. Getting inside will require… cunning. That is all I have for you."

* * *

Garnier removes himself from the world around him while tending his patients one by one. This obsession will spell his end.

* * *

As Altaïr walked around Acre, he heard a herald speak of Garnier. "Soon, friends, soon the good doctor will attend to your needs!" Altaïr stopped walking and looked at the herald. He was a fair skinned man with blonde hair. No doubt a colonizer from some European country. "Be patient and hold hope close! There are many in need of aid and there is only one of him. He works tirelessly to serve and to save, but these things take time!"

The man walked away from his stand and into a cut. Altaïr started to beau upon him until he yielded.

"I yield! Don't kill me. I'll do anything you want!"

"You serve Garnier?"

"Garnier makes me say those things to keep the people from revolting." The man tried to straighten up. "To give them hope and make them eager for his touch."

"Tell me everything you know about the man."

"Y-yes, of course. I know what happens within, what he _really_ does." Altaïr nodded. "Not sick nor wounded when they enter. But once he's got his hands on them, then the pain begins."

"I see," Altaïr nodded, "he's no healer, then. Just a sick, cruel man."

"I don't know _what_ it is he does to make them cry so loud, but it must be stopped before more are made to suffer." The man wiped his mouth and a long trail of drool ran from his mouth. "Will you," he sputtered, "will you stop him?"

"It's why you still live."

"He is cautious. You must pick the proper time. Go to him when he attends to the patients." He stressed the word 'patients' all the while rolling his eyes. "He forgets the world around him and becomes lost in his work. Strike then."

"I thank you very much for this information."

"Then you'll let me go?"

"Would that I could," Altaïr stabbed the man in the throat, and he started gurgling blood. He collapsed onto the floor and Altaïr stepped over his body. Then he walked away.

* * *

Ryuugazaki: I had intended on doing this earlier, but I've been so sick and tired lately I couldn't find the motivation.


End file.
